


brand new start

by dreamtiwasanarchitect



Series: the good are never easy (kidnapping AU) [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: (Does Ex-Mob Count?), (kinda), Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Shows, Baking, Bars and Pubs, Cats, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Flirting, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, M/M, Making Out, Nicky Is Not A Mouse, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect
Summary: “I only wish—I wish I’d met you before, somewhere else, any other way. I wish this was a real first date.”Joe can hear the longing—and the regret—in Nicky’s voice. “I know,” he says quietly. “But maybe we wouldn’t be together now, if we hadn’t met like we did.”Nicky smiles sadly. “You think it’s destiny?”Joe shrugs. “Kinda seems like it.”(Or: Five “firsts.” Finally: birthday party.)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: the good are never easy (kidnapping AU) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169891
Comments: 124
Kudos: 211





	1. date night

**Author's Note:**

> These little codas are set between chapters 11 and 12 of [never happens like you think it should](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743966/chapters/70481031). I recommend reading that work first, or these may not make much sense.
> 
> While there will be sexual content in most chapters (it is me, after all), none of it is terrible descriptive so I’ve gone with an M rating. Tags will update as we go!

Like always, Nicky is cooking dinner, and like always, it smells delicious.

“Hey,” Joe says, leaning against the counter. “We should go out.”

Nicky looks at him. 

“For dinner,” Joe adds.

Frowning, Nicky looks back to the sauce he’s stirring. “I can make something different,” he offers.

“No—sorry, I didn’t mean tonight.”

“When, then?”

Joe shrugs. “I don’t know. Whenever. I just thought you should get a break from cooking.” He can’t help edging closer to Nicky, caught in his gravitational pull. “And I wanna take you out on an actual date.” 

Nicky’s brow has that tiny crease between it that means he’s thinking. “What—dinner and a movie?” 

“Sure,” Joe says easily. “Why not?”

Nicky huffs a laugh and ducks his head. “All right,” he agrees. He looks almost shy, and that’s when Joe realizes Nicky probably hadn’t had much time for dating, historically, between all the extortion, racketeering, and drug running his uncle had him doing. 

The thought makes his gut twist a little. To move past it, he kisses Nicky’s temple, which turns into kissing Nicky’s cheek, which turns into kissing Nicky’s mouth, which turns into a make out session that’s interrupted by the sauce boiling over.

“Cazzo,” Nicky swears under his breath. He manages to to save most of it, and Joe thinks a little spilled sauce is a small price to pay for that thing Nicky does with his tongue. 

———

Two nights later, they head to the tapas restaurant a few blocks away from their apartment. It’s a small place that doesn’t take reservations. The restaurant site warned Joe that proximity to the other diners could result in “engaging conversations” and “new friendships,” which he might have been interested in under other circumstances, but tonight he’s not trying to make friends. 

Luckily they arrive early to make their movie and, in doing so, also beat any dinner crowd. They snag a tiny corner table and start looking over the drinks menu.

“What are you having?” Joe asks, perusing the handcraft cocktail menu the website touted. He glances up to see Nicky looking apologetic. 

“Will you be disappointed if I only have wine?”

“No,” Joe says quickly, even though he is, a little, because he’s torn between the tequila mule and the espresso martini and he’d already started plotting to go halfsies on each, but the point was to give Nicky a nice evening. “You should get what you want.” 

Nicky’s mouth twitches. “I already have,” he says, looking at Joe meaningfully.

Joe laughs. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

Nicky bites his lip, eyebrow raised.

Shit. That was too easy. Joe shakes his head, grinning. “Ugh. _Nicky_.” 

Nicky smirks back, though his eyes are dark and serious. “It’s too early in the evening for you to be giving me ideas.” The timbre of his voice makes Joe want to climb onto the table and get on all fours, but luckily their server comes and saves him from himself.

Drinks ordered, Joe turns his attention to the dinner menu. “Want to share some small plates?”

Nicky nods.

“How many? Which ones?”

He shrugs a shoulder and glances at his own menu. “I’d like the hummus. You pick the others?” 

Joe’s learned that despite his own prodigious culinary abilities, Nicky will eat almost anything. Joe doesn’t like to think too much about why that is. 

In the end, Joe orders them the hummus plate, the vegetable pakoras, and the duck spring rolls. Having no point of reference for just how small these small plates will be, he’s a little worried it won’t be enough food, but since he hopes date night will end in sex, it’s probably better they’re underfed than overstuffed. 

“How were things at the shop today?” Joe asks while they wait for their food. It was the first day he hadn’t pitched at the shop in two weeks. Instead, he took the day to work on his art, mostly as Nicky’s insistence.

“Uneventful,” Nicky says, and Joe knows that to Nicky, that’s a good thing. “Did you have much progress?”

“No,” Joe sighs. “Not as much as I was hoping, anyway.” He’s been trying to get enough pieces—probably at least five, maybe closer to ten—together to eventually do a show. So far, he has a quarter of one, single piece.

“You should work on it tomorrow, then, too. If you like.” 

“But the shop—”

“Will be fine,” Nicky tells him serenely. 

Before Joe can protest any further, their small plates arrive, and they start eating without any fanfare. Joe’s never met anyone more comfortable with silence than Nicky. It usually makes Joe antsy and itchy to fill it, but the quiet doesn’t bother him when it’s just the two of them. It feels—easy, somehow. 

Still, eventually a thought crosses his mind that he’s compelled to share. 

“It’s weird,” he says, using naan to scoop another bite of hummus. “We’ve been living together for more than a month, but this is our first date.” Unless they counted the time they sat outside the cave in the mountains and drank sambuca, but Joe doesn’t mention that, since he can picture the exact face Nicky would make if he did.

Unfortunately, Nicky gets there on his own. He sips at his wine, gaze downcast.

“Hey, Nicky, come on.”

Nicky pushes a hand through his hair, then looks at Joe with mournful eyes. “I only wish—I wish I’d met you before, somewhere else, any other way. I wish this was a real first date.” Joe can hear the longing—and the regret—in his voice.

“I know,” Joe says quietly. “But maybe we wouldn’t be together now, if we hadn’t met like we did.”

Nicky smiles sadly. “You think it’s destiny?”

Joe shrugs. “Kinda seems like it.”

Nicky leans forward and kisses him, just a quick brush of his wine-stained lips, but it still makes Joe sigh. He feels Nicky’s lips curl against his, and he’s still smiling when he sits back. 

———

They arrive at the theater mostly full and slightly tipsy. When they settle into their seats, Joe rests his hand on the arm rest between them, and Nicky takes it. 

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Of course,” Joe says, and knocks his head against Nicky’s. 

Nicky gives him a tiny smile. 

The opening crawl begins, and if Joe hadn’t actually wanted to see this movie, he’d be spending the next two-and-a-half hours making out with Nicky in the back row. As it is, they’re seated in front of a family of five.

He can’t help sneaking little glances Nicky’s way to see what kind of movie-goer he is. He sits very still, and he’s intently focused, but he always notices Joe watching him before Joe can turn his gaze back to the screen. 

“Well?” he asks Nicky as the lights come up. “What’d you think?”

Nicky searches his face. “It was good?”

Joe grimaces.

“It was _not_ good,” Nicky amends quickly.

“I mean. I didn’t think so—but it’s okay if you liked it!”

Nicky shrugs as he stands. “It was fine. I didn’t understand much.”

Joe frowns and stands, too. He’s never noticed any gaps in Nicky’s English comprehension, unless—

“Nicky. You haven’t seen the others?”

“I saw the first one.”

“First one, as in, the first one in the sequel trilogy, the first movie in the entire saga, or the actual first _Star Wars_?”

Nicky frowns and rubs at his jaw. “I’m not sure. Something blew up.”

“Nicky,” Joe laughs. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it did not matter to me which movie was saw.” He leans in to kiss Joe, and then they _are_ making out in the theater, standing in the middle row with all the lights on as people are still filtering out.

They kiss until the teenager tasked with cleaning up between showings appears and awkwardly coughs several times to get their attention.

———

“Was it a good date night?” Nicky asks when they get home. 

“It was great,” Joe says. 

“Is sex part of date night?” Nicky’s tone is all faux-innocence.

“Oh, yes,” Joe agrees seriously. “It’s an integral part of it.”

“In that case.” Nicky turns the lock and moves so quickly Joe can’t even track it—one minute Joe’s standing behind the couch, and the next thing he knows he’s tumbling over it until he’s laying flat-out on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

Nicky straddles him and flashes Joe his crooked smile. 

“Damn, Nicky,” Joe says, a little breathless, probably more due to the hotness of Nicky than being flipped over the couch. 

Nicky bends down to mouth at his neck, nipping at the skin occasionally. One of his hands presses flat against Joe’s chest, and the other tangles in Joe’s hair.

“You said something about rubbing off on me?” Nicky purrs in his ear.

“Yeah, fuck.” 

“Mm, good,” Nicky says. “I would never ask you to get naked on the first date.” 

Joe laughs, then Nicky bites him again, and it turns into a moan.

Having outercourse on the couch was not on Joe’s date night bingo, but there’s something hot about getting off while they’re both almost fully dressed, like just being around each other is enough. 

After, they lie on the couch in a mess of limbs. It’s not particularly comfortable, but Joe has no intention of moving. 

“Nicky,” he says, “I love you.”

Nicky pushes up on one hand and stares down at Joe. His face would look blank to anyone who didn’t know him well, but Joe is now a master scholar when it comes to Nicky’s micro-expressions, and he can tell Nicky’s surprised.

“It’s okay if you—if you’re not ready, to say it back,” Joe says quickly. “I won’t be upset. I know it’s only our first date,” he jokes. 

Nicky shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It’s not.” He swallows. “I love you,” Nicky tells him gravely. “I loved you before I ever thought I would be able to do something like this with you.” 

Joe reaches up to cup his cheek. “You sound so somber.”

Nicky’s eyes flutter shut as he turns his face to kiss Joe’s palm. “Not somber. Only very sincere.”

Joe smiles and tugs Nick back into his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought in the comments! I'm also on [Tumblr](https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/).


	2. art show

“This is brilliant, Joe,” Nicky says. He’s looking at Joe’s work with something approaching awe, and it makes Joe’s chest feel warm and full. Joe had hidden everything in the spare room of the apartment and forbidden Nicky from previewing it, so it’s a proper reveal.

One of the little grungy-chic galleries in town is featuring Joe’s work along with two other local artists. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s the first time he’s exhibited anywhere, and that’s exciting in itself. 

“I love this one.” Nicky nods at the next piece.

“You’ve said that about all of them,” Joe points out.

“Because I do,” Nicky insists. He reaches out and squeezes Joe’s hand. 

It would be perfect, except for the guy with a ridiculous handlebar mustache who starts offering an impromptu (and highly pretentious) critique of Joe’s work to his group of friends. He’s not being quiet about it, either. 

“Everyone’s a critic,” Joe sighs, rolling his eyes.

He’s more annoyed than angry, but Nicky turns to glare at the man in a way that is, frankly, murderous, which is not a word Joe uses lightly when describing Nicky.

“Excuse me,” Nicky says, loud in a way Joe has had never heard him be. “But you’re being very rude.”

The guy looks at him. It’s a small space, so they’re only a few feet away. “Um. Whatever, man. Just talking about the piece.”

“You are being an asshole,” Nicky tells him flatly. By now, he has the attention of the entire gallery.

“Nicky,” Joe hisses, pulling at his arm. “Baby, come on—don’t—”

“Look, fuck off,” the guy tells Nicky. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yes, but I had the displeasure of hearing you all the same,” Nicky says. “As did everyone else. Perhaps you could do us all a favor and _get the fuck out_.” 

Despite the asshole’s hipster-douche aesthetic, he’s tall and broad and probably not used to being threatened, especially not by someone as unassuming as Nicky. He sneers. “You wanna fucking fight, dude? I’ll fuck you up.”

Nicky shifts, and it’s like he’s gone from trying to draw as little attention as possible to taking up as much space as he can. Something cool comes over his face as he takes a step into the man’s space. “Really? Let’s find out.” 

“ _Nicky_ ,” Joe begs.

Nicky doesn’t move, and for a moment Joe thinks his ex-mobster boyfriend is going maim a man in a gallery that’s run by a woman who self-identifies as a “spirit guide.” Which, in addition to being awful for all the obvious reasons, would just be really embarrassing for everyone involved.

But to Joe’s relief, the guy backs down and leaves, flipping them the bird as he goes. One of the girls with him runs to catch up, but the rest of their little group quickly turns away, obviously eager to avoid Nicky’s wrath.

Joe drags Nicky away and leaves him standing in the corner as he hurries over to the gallery owner, who’s looking at him pointedly.

“I am so, so sorry,” Joe begins, but he shakes her head. 

“It’s a little sweet,” she say with a wry smile. “That your boyfriend got so upset on your behalf,” she adds when Joe frowns.

“Oh.” Joe fights a smile, because she’s not wrong, but—

“Still,” she continues in a much less conspiratorial tone, “I can’t have any brawls in here.”

“No, of course not—I completely understand. I’ll talk to him, it won’t happen again.”

———

They stay until the show ends for the night, though they barely speak—Nicky quietly asks Joe if he wants a refill several times, all of which Joe declines. They walk home in silence, too, their hands shoved in their own coat pockets instead joined together. 

Joe closes and locks the door, then turns to face Nicky, whose eyes are wide and penitent. 

“Joe, I’m—”

“Don’t say anything,” Joe tells him, and Nicky’s mouth clicks shut. He just stands in place looking contrite and beautiful, and for a minute, Joe fights it, but then his baser instincts win out, and he pulls Nicky into a rough, filthy kiss. Nicky breathes a little noise of surprise into Joe’s mouth, but he kisses him back.

“Nicky,” Joe rasps against Nicky’s lips, voice strained even to his own ears. “I want you to hold me up against this wall and _fuck me_.” 

Nicky stares at him for a moment, chest heaving, but he’s apparently not about to look a gift fuck in the mouth. His hands go to Joe’s ass and he lifts him up, biting and licking at Joe’s lips. Joe wraps his legs around Nicky’s waist as Nicky uses one hand to drag their pants down as far as he can manage.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joe pants, and holds on for dear life. 

———

“So,” Joe says when his brain is back online. “We probably need to talk about…well, all of that.”

Nicky swallows and nods. “I’m sorry,” he says, then he glances at Joe. They’re siting side-by-side on the floor, slumped against the wall. 

Joe raises his eyebrows. “For?”

“For causing a scene. For almost beating up that asshole. For trying to fight your battles for you. For ruining your night.”

“Well. Okay.”

Nicky blinks. “Okay?” 

“I mean. I accept your apology for all of the above, and I trust you to never do it again.” Joe hesitates, then admits, “Even though it was really fucking hot.” His core is going to be sore tomorrow, and it’s entirely worth it. 

Nicky looks at him, almost hopeful. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Joe says. “But please don’t start fights just because it turns me on. There’s like a million other ways you can accomplish that.”

A smile ghosts over Nicky’s face, but then he looks like a sad boi.

“I am sorry,” he says again. “I don’t want to be—like that.” 

“You’re not,” Joe tells him. There are some habits Nicky is still trying to shake, like the way he never lets Joe answer the door without first getting a hand on his gun, the way he starts to tense up if he feels like someone has been walking behind them for too long, the way he doesn’t like to give out any extraneous personal information to anyone, not even Chrissy who works at the store and doesn’t give a shit about anything that doesn’t happen on her phone.

He takes Nicky’s hand. “I love you,” he says. “If I ever _do_ need you to beat up some asshole, I’ll let you know. And for the record, you didn’t ruin my night.”

Nicky looks relieved. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Your show was brilliant,” Nicky says. He rubs his thumb over the back of Joe’s hand. “Will you let me see your pieces beforehand, now?”

“Hm. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want to paint you like one of my French girls.” 

Nicky frowns. “Which French girls?”

Joe should have seen that coming. He’s yet to make a single pop culture reference Nicky understands. “No, Nicky, it’s—never mind. I want to draw you naked, is what I’m saying.”

“Oh.” Nicky blinks, then he stands. He pushes his pants down to his ankles as he toes off his shoes.

“I didn’t necessarily mean now,” Joe says, laughing. 

Nicky shrugs and strips off his shirt. “Best begin work for the next show, yes?”

Joe grins and lets Nicky pull him to his feet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed more feral-ish Nicky. Let me know what you thought or holler at me on [Tumblr](https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/).


	3. pub night

  
Joe considers his options as he surveys the closet. Goosebumps break out on his skin. He’s naked, having just scrubbed off all the paint that speckled his face, hands, arms, and (somehow) feet. 

He hears the door open, and seconds later, Nicky presses up against him. 

“You smell nice,” he says, nose buried in Joe’s neck. 

Joe is always a fan of being in Nicky’s arms, but something about Nicky being fully-dressed while Joe is completely naked makes it extra hot. “Thanks,” he says, and twists to kiss Nicky. 

The angle is awkward, but they make it work. Nicky’s tongue starts licking over Joe’s teeth, and he has to remind himself they have plans. Nicky looks a little disappointed when Joe pulls away. 

“We don’t have to go,” Joe offers. “Not if you don’t want to.” 

Nicky shakes his head. “You want to.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then we’ll go.” Nicky flashes him a quick smile and perches on the edge of the bed. 

“Okay,” Joe says, and he can’t help grinning back. “Help me decide what to wear, then.” 

“I wouldn’t be any good at that.” Nicky frowns a little and glances at his own outfit. “Is this okay? Should I change?”

He’s wearing dark-wash, fitted jeans, a plain fatigue-green tee, and the only shoes he owns that aren’t snow boots. Joe knows he’ll add his leather jacket to the ensemble and look stunning. Besides, the earrings do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of overall aesthetic. 

“You look good,” Joe tells him. “Like always.”

Nicky shakes his head again, but Joe can tell he’s pleased by the way he ducks his head. 

He puts on a pair of slim-fitting black jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He pulls a sweater over that, because he’s always cold here, but they’ll be with natives who will give him shit for wearing a coat if it’s above freezing. 

Joe turns back to Nicky. “Thoughts?”

Nicky stands and takes Joe’s face in his hands. “Bellissimo,” he says. Nicky’s voice is deep and smooth, and Joe melts into the soft kiss he places on his lips. He’s still swooning like a cartoon princess when he feels Nicky pull away and reach for something else in the closet. 

Joe opens his eyes, and Nicky holds up his favorite beanie. “Don’t forget this. It’ll help keep you warm.”

Joe grins and tugs on the hat. “My hero.” 

———

They arrive at the brewery-distillery-gastropub just a few minutes after seven, slightly late at Joe’s insistence—he hadn’t wanted to be the first ones there. He spots Beth right away, and leads Nicky to the high-top. 

“Hey, you made it,” Beth says, smiling. 

“I would never stand you up,” Joe says solemnly, but he smiles back.

“This must be Nicky?” she asks, looking at Nicky where he’s standing just a bit behind Joe.

“This is Nicky,” Joe confirms, and shuffles to the side a little. Nicky offers Beth a quick, tight smile and holds out his hand for her to shake.

“It’s good to meet you, Nicky. Heard a lot about you.” Beth looks around at the rest of the group. “Right, so this is Joe, he’s been teaching at the creative centre, too, and his boyfriend, Nicky.”

That word—boyfriend—rankles a little, but Joe lets it slide.

“Joe, Nicky, my boyfriend Mark, our friends Allison and Paul.” Each of the other three hold up their hands in a casual wave, and Joe realizes that they’re now out on a triple date with two straight couples they don’t know. Joe’s not exactly thrilled about it, but Nicky, who is much politer and braver than he is, is already sitting down.

They order their first round of drinks, and the group makes pleasant conversation about how Nicky and Joe ended up in Banff and what they do, which leads to getting the annotated biographies of everyone else. Joe continues to think Beth is cool, and Mark seems like a good guy, too, but Paul seems a bit smug, and something about the way Allison looks at them puts Joe on edge—it gives him massive “look at our trophy gays” vibes.

“So,” Allison asks. “How did you two meet?”

Joe and Nicky exchange a quick, panicked look. Nicky’s face is flushed from the combination of drinking and other people’s attention. He’s just coming off a lengthy conversation with Mark, who’s apparently a big snowboarder, about the merits of free-ride boards as compared to all-mountain boards. 

“We met in Italy,” Joe says hurriedly. “That’s where Nicky’s from.”

Paul smirks. “Yeah, I think we worked that one out.” 

“Right. Well,” Joe begins, “I was living there. I was working at an art museum, ah, giving tours.” 

He’s aware Nicky of watching him closely, jaw clenched and tense. 

“And one day…” Joe racks his brain. “One day, I went to the museum cafe and this guy was in line in front of me—”

“It was me. I was ordering a cappuccino,” Nicky says suddenly.

Joe blinks, not sure how that detail will become relevant to the story he’s pulling out of his ass. He waits for Nicky to say more, but when he doesn’t, Joe is forced to press on. 

“Yes, right, a cappuccino. And, uh, while he was waiting for it, he looked over his shoulder. And I saw that this man was incredibly good-looking, so I used my favorite pickup line.” He pauses for dramatic effect and to gauge audience reaction. Everyone is leaned forward to hear what came next, including Nicky.

Beth laughs. “Which is?” 

“I tapped him on the shoulder and I said, ‘excuse me, but you’re so fine you could make an impression on Monet.’” 

Everyone cringes and laughs. Little did they know that Joe had heard that line trotted out by museum guests no less than ten times.

“And that worked?” Mark asks. 

“Of course not,” Nicky says. 

(Actually, in Joe’s experience, the line did have about a twenty-percent success rate.)

“Then what did?”

Since he’d interjected, Joe waits for Nicky to answer, but he just looks at Joe expectantly. 

“Well,” Joe continues, wildly improvising. “He just sort of laughed politely and then he took a drink, and there was some foam on his upper lip. And I offered to kiss it off, and then he asked me out on a date instead of calling museum security, which, you know, was lucky for me.” Joe laughs.

“Bold, man,” Mark says. 

“It’s romantic, I think!” Allison squeals. “Meeting at a museum? We met at a _bar_.” She nods at Paul and pulls a face.

“Well.” Joe shrugs and smiles, desperate to move on. “It worked out.” He glances at Nicky. 

Across the table, Nicky shoots him a crooked smile. 

———

A couple hours later, they stumble back into their apartment. Nicky takes off his shoes and beelines for the couch. 

“You okay?” Joe calls as he steps out of his own shoes. He walks around the couch to find Nicky sprawled out on his back, tugging off his jeans and boxers. 

When he’s kicked off his pants, Nicky rolls onto his belly and looks over his shoulder. “Will you have me?” he asks, and Joe is completely smitten, both by the phrasing and the way Nicky’s voice has gone a little loose from the alcohol. 

“Always,” Joe says, and Nicky smiles and spreads his legs. 

They’re both a little past buzzed, so it’s sloppy—the couch acquires a few new stains by the time they’re done—but neither of them care. After, Joe tries to arrange them into a spooning position, but Nicky wiggles out of his arms. 

“Where are you going?” Joe calls after him.

There’s clanging in the kitchen, then the sound of one of their appliances—the air fryer, he thinks. Sighing, Joe pulls on his underwear and goes to find Nicky.

He’s cutting up potatoes with a shocking amount of rhythm and precision given how much they’ve had to drink.

“Nicky,” Joe laughs. “What are you doing?”

Nicky looks over at him without missing a beat. “Making french fries.” 

“My god,” Joe says. “You are the perfect man.” 

Nicky shakes his head. “Just drunk and hungry.”

Joe grins. “In more way than one, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I always want you,” Nicky says in that very serious, matter-of-fact way of his. 

Joe drops a kiss on his shoulder. “I know the feeling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Always appreciate hearing what you thought in the comments. You can also hit me up on [Tumblr](https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/).


	4. lazy morning

Joe wakes up and he’s alone, which is both unusual and unwelcome. The absence of Nicky next to him almost makes him panic—he wonders if something’s happened. Maybe Nicky’s sick, or someone broke into the store. He hasn’t even started feeling around for his phone when the door slowly creaks open. 

Nicky blinks at Joe with surprise when their eyes meet. “You’re up,” he says.

Joe takes in the cup of coffee Nicky has cradled in one hand and the book tucked under his arm. “You’ve _been_ up,” he observes.

“I usually wake up before you,” Nicky points out. 

“But even on the weekends, though? How much before me?”

Nicky winces. “A couple of hours.”

Joe processes that. Technically, this means Nicky’s been lying to him for months now, but he can’t help but be charmed by this particular deception.

“So, for…six months now, you’ve been letting me believe we usually wake up at the same time, when you’ve actually been laying awake in bed next to me for hours?”

Nicky bites his lip and nods. “Well. Sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes I get up and clean, or catch up on work for the store, or read. Then I come back.” He looks like he’s about to say more—like he’s about to apologize, but Joe doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Nicky,” Joe says. “Come here.” 

Nicky climbs into bed, and Joe pulls him in for a kiss as soon as he’s close enough, morning breath be damned. He starts tugging at the soft, worn clothes Nicky sleeps—and apparently has already had an _entire morning_ —in. 

“You—you aren’t upset?” Nicky asks, already a little breathless.

“Nicky,” Joe mumbles against his collarbone. “This is both the craziest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. No, I’m not mad.” 

He pushes Nicky down on the mattress and starts kissing his way down Nicky’s thick, perfect thighs. 

“I like being with you, when you wake up,” Nicky tells him. He tangles his fingers in Joe’s hair. 

“I like you being with me when I wake up,” Joe says, and then his mouth is otherwise occupied. 

———

After, Nicky makes crepes and they eat on the couch. Once their plates are scraped clean and their mugs are drained, they start their usual, inevitable slide toward each other. They’re pressed close, side-by-side, ignoring whatever’s playing on TV, and Joe’s just started to lick at the spot on Nicky’s neck that makes him squirm when Pancake materializes on his lap.

When Nicky’s down in the shop, she tends to stalk around the apartment like she’s a lion on the savannah. When he’s home, she usually scurries off to hide in the closet or a cupboard and can only be lured out by the sounds of her food. If she does deign to show her face, it’s usually to sit on Joe’s lap and hiss if Nicky makes any sudden movements.

Today, she doesn’t settle in—instead, she cranes her head forward to sniff at their sticky plates, then meows in Joe’s face.

“What?” he coos, stroking down her back. 

Nicky shoots them a look that’s fonder than they deserve. He immediately agreed to Pancake’s presence in the apartment when Joe broached the topic, and he’s born her thinly-veiled hatred of him with grace.

Pancake arches her back under Joe’s hand, but she still doesn’t sit. Instead, she stalks forward until she’s on Nicky’s lap, her little paws making biscuits on his thighs.

Nicky goes completely still and glances up at Joe, who stares back.

“I think she’s extending the kitty version of an olive branch,” Joe says. 

“Should—should I pet her?” 

Joe hesitates. He doesn’t want Nicky to lose a hand, but— “You could try?”

Slowly, gently, Nicky runs his hand over Pancake’s back. She jumps a little when his hand makes contact, but then she knocks her head against his hand, the signal for more. 

Nicky pets her again, and she starts to purr. His lips curl into a tiny smile. 

Joe has never been more jealous of his cat, which is saying a lot about an animal that sleeps for sixteen hours a day.

After pacing around in a circle a few times, Pancake finally sits and curls up on Nicky’s lap, still rumbling like a motor. Nicky rests his hand on her body and looks up at Joe.

“Is this a temporary ceasefire, do you think?”

Joe shakes his head. “Nah, war’s over. Once you’re in with a cat, you’re in.”

Nicky scratches behind Pancake’s ear. “This is nice,” he says, and suddenly Joe isn’t jealous anymore. He leans his head against Nicky’s shoulder and tunes back in to the show they’ve been not-watching. 

“Joe,” Nicky says two episodes later.

“Hm?”

“I have to pee.”

Joe glances up, frowning. “You’re not back at school, you don’t have to ask for permission. Unless…” He’s suddenly imagining Nicky in a Catholic school uniform, possibly bent over a desk, and most of his executive function has stopped, well, functioning.

Nicky pays his minor meltdown no mind. “But what about her?” He splays a proprietary hand over Pancake.

Joe laughs. “Just move her. She’ll live.”

“She won’t be upset?”

“Well.” Pancake always shoots Joe a particularly disgruntled look when his need to move interrupts her hours-long naps, but given that she’s dependent on him for survival, she gets over it pretty quickly. “She’ll be fine.” 

Nicky looks down at the cat, considering. “I can wait until after another episode,” he says. 

Joe grins and kisses his shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are really meaningful and motivating! Talk to me here or on [Tumblr](https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/).


	5. birthday party

Joe putters around the apartment in his sweats while Nicky showers and gets dressed for a day working in the shop. Joe makes coffee and toast, reads the news on his phone, and does everything he can to cultivate the appearance of someone about to have a normal and casual morning. 

But the second the door closes behind Nicky, Joe springs into action.

It takes him longer than he’d care to admit to assemble all the necessary ingredients, but he never once questioned if they had them—Nicky keeps the place completely stocked with everything he needs to cook and bake from scratch.

The only thing they didn’t have was a cake tin, but Joe had already handled that—and candles, and sprinkles—on a covert trip to the store. He pulls up the recipe on his phone and cracks his knuckles, ready to get down to baking business and bring his months-long plan to fruition.

It started on a freezing January day when they made a stop at the liquor store after their usual grocery trip. As Nicky took out his ID to pay for the wine, Joe grabbed it to study while Nicky finished the transaction.

Joe handed it back to him as they left the store. “Nicky Smith,” he said, amused. “Is that really your birthday?”

Nicky glanced at the ID before he slipped it into his wallet. “April 19th, yes.” 

“That’s coming up.”

Nicky gave him a dubious look. “It’s more than three months away.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Joe grinned. “Not a big birthday guy?”

Nicky shook his head. “I never celebrated, not after my mother died.” He said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, like he was telling Joe what time it was or letting a customer know the the store’s return policy, but it still knifed at Joe’s heart. He let the subject drop, but he was resolved not to let Nicky’s birthday go unobserved this year.

Only now, on April 19th, Joe notices a terrible, gaping flaw in his plan.

He can’t bake for shit.

Why did he think semi-regular _Bake Off_ viewing would be adequate preparation for actually baking a cake? Even measuring the ingredients right is hard. By the time he gets the cake in the oven, he’s considering giving it up as a bad job and getting one from the store.

But his mama didn’t raise a quitter, Joe tells himself, and he starts mixing the frosting. While he’s doing that, somehow, the cake manages to burn a bit. Joe takes it out of the oven as quickly as he can. The red velvet cake is a bit blackened around the edges, but he tells himself it might still be edible. He lights three candles to mask the scent. 

Joe starts icing the cake, but it must still be too hot—the once weirdly-firm cream cheese frosting now melts down the side in unattractive globs. He attempts to zhush it up with copious sprinkles and candles, but, as Paul Hollywood would say, it looks “a bit of a mess.” More than, really. 

He still has a few hours before Nicky will be home, so the least he can do is clean up—that, at least, he manages not to screw up at all, though there’s admittedly little margin for error on doing the dishes. When the kitchen’s clean, he showers and changes into his tightest clothes. Maybe he can distract Nicky from his shit show of a cake with his above-average abs.

Joe kneels down beside the bed and pulls out the other bit of secret shopping he did. He ordered this present online, and he’s not completely sure if Nicky will like it. 

He hears the door open and makes a game-time decision—he leaves the little toy on the bed, still in its modern and classy packaging. Joe hurries into the kitchen to find Nicky looking around, no doubt trying to figure out where the smell that’s a strange mix of sugar and artificial pine is coming from.

Joe puts on a brave face as he pulls the cake out from behind the air fryer. Adding the candles was premature, he realizes in dismay—they’ve gone all sunken-in and crooked. But there’s nothing to be done for it now.

“Happy birthday, Nicky,” Joe says, holding out the world’s most hideous cake.

Nicky blinks down at it in surprise.

“I…um, today I learned I can’t bake.” 

Nicky looks up at him and shakes his head. “No—Joe, I—thank you,” he says softly. He smiles his little half-smile. “Red velvet?”

“You can tell?” 

Then Nicky grins. “I can tell. My favorite.”

“It might be…kind of gross,” Joe tells him. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to eat it. It can be, I don’t know, ceremonial.”

“I want to,” Nicky says, and he sounds so serious that Joe gets out two plates, two forks, and a knife.

He dishes up a slice for Nicky, then one for himself. He watches as Nicky takes his first bite, poker face on in full force.

“Well?” Joe presses as Nicky chews.

He swallows. “It’s good,” he says, and shoots Joe a quick smile before he takes another bite. Maybe Joe’s imagining it, but it seems like Nicky’s trying to chew less and swallow faster this time.

Joe forks a small bit of his own piece. It’s instantly clear that the cake actually somehow tastes worse than it looks. The sponge is somehow dry _and_ rubbery, and the frosting has a chalky texture and a too-savory taste. 

Joe forces himself to swallow. “Nicky. This is god-awful.”

“You made it for me,” Nicky says. “It is a good first attempt.”

“Nicky, please stop eating it. I’m afraid something that tastes this bad might be chemically dangerous to consume.” 

Nicky puts down his plate and laughs. “You are being too hard on yourself.”

“We could not pay someone to eat this cake.”

Nicky laughs again. “Good thing we do not need to, then,” he says, and pulls Joe into his arms. 

“Happy birthday,” Joe says into Nicky’s neck. “Sorry your cake is the culinary equivalent of Chernobyl.” 

Nicky kisses his cheek. “I love it. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Joe’s hands have a mind of their own, and they drop down to palm at Nicky’s ass. 

Nicky arches into the touch and cranes his head back to look at Joe. His eyes are dark and his face is flushed. “I don’t suppose a birthday spanking is part of the planned festivities?” he asks.

Joe’s cock twitches and he can almost picture it, Nicky’s ass all red and blotchy from a spanking while he wears the new, vibrating plug that’s waiting for them on the bed. 

He grins. “I’m open to modifying tonight’s agenda.” 

Nicky smiles back and tugs him into the bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that for this little series of codas! I'm not sure when I'll next return to this series (I have ideas, but there are a few other things I'm working on first), but do subscribe to the series if you'd like to be updated when I do. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know if you enjoyed!


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